


Strike Three, You're Out!

by LoneWanderer



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Canon-Typical Violence, Drama & Romance, Drug Abuse, Drug Use, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/F, F/M, Gen, Romance, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Violence, just a bunch of angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-01-15 08:52:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12317742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoneWanderer/pseuds/LoneWanderer
Summary: The future Lone Wanderer leaves behind everyone, notably her best friend, who now has to deal with the consequences of her actions while simultaneously trying not to drown in bad choices. Enemies made and lines drawn, how can she survive when the only person who kept her going has left?~a fic where amata gets replaced by someone who isn't a total prat~*my first fic omg*





	1. Up To Bat

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic detailing the years before, during, and after the lone wanderer left, focusing on an unassuming girl who is forced to become something that no longer resembles herself, for better and for worse.
> 
> *first fic, b gentle bb*

The young girl waited eagerly in the decorated diner, bouncing on the balls of her feet while guests chatted around her, streamers and balloons waving in the ventilated space, recycled air gently flowing around all of them. Her slate grey eyes never left the similarly colored door, the fingers connected to her right hand danced across the soft knuckles on her opposite fist. Her breath hitched as she heard footsteps coming down the hall, but she sighed as they passed, not stopping to come inside. The tired looking child didn't have too long to ruminate on the disappointment as her head was yanked backwards sharply, hand instinctively going up to swat away whoever had pulled on one of her braids. Her jet black plait was pulled out of the hand of a boy who was slightly taller than her as she spun around, eyebrows furrowed in exasperation. Not surprised to see him, she sighed, looking away, "Knock it off, Butch."

The boy stood there impatiently, and though having not even asked a question, he treated the silence as anyone's fault but his own. "Where is Lola, Scout? This party sucks and I'm bored." Butch waved his arms out, gesturing to the clock and then to the room which was only filled with a few people, none of which were acting as if this wasn't any other day in the diner.

Scout glanced about, annoyed that Butch had a point. She had invited more of her fellow vault dwellers, but most of them made excuses and had conveniently forgotten about plans they had. She kicked at the ground with her boot, feeling embarrassed, a warm flush spreading across her cheeks.  Scout had spent months planning this surprise party for her best friend, well, she had helped Dr. Westen, Lola's father, for months while he planned the party, but she decorated! Her own father was too busy to help, or so he had said. Scout knew that was a thinly veiled excuse to not help her, as her father, the Overseer of Vault 101, wasn't too fond of Lola or her lone parent. He had come to the party, reluctantly, as he was required to do so as the head of the vault. "There were supposed to be more people here. I invited Stevie, Susie, and Christine, but-"

Cutting her off, Butch verbally jabbed at her, "-But they were smart enough not to show up to such a lame party." He groaned, louder than necessary, and sulked back to the booth he was sharing with his buddies, Paul and Wally. Scout waited until he had stopped looking and then glared at the group of boys, the source of so much of her childhood misery, all sitting at one table, making snide remarks about her, her best friend Lola, and this supposed disaster of a party.

In this moment, Scout thought back to all the times Lola had stood up for her against, not only that specific group of boys, but other children as well, defending her against their insults and cruel jokes. Being the Overseer's daughter came with a price and none of the benefits that other children thought she received, no, it was quite the opposite. Her father was absent, not only physically, but emotionally as well. She thought about all the nights that, no Scout, he can't tuck you into bed because he has more important things to do, he has responsibilities. This vault doesn't run itself and you'd do best to remember that. No, in moments of loneliness and torment, Scout didn't rely on her father, but rather her closest friend and ally, Lola Westen.

Scout turned her attention from the band of unruly boys back to the door, inching closer to it when she felt a warm hand on her shoulder, "Don't worry Scout, she'll be here any minute. You know Lola, that girl gets distracted like no one's business." It was the vault doctor, Mr. Westen to Scout, comforting her. A sense of calmness washed over her, the reassuring touch of a father, even if it wasn't hers, did a lot to soothe her nerves. She gave him a sheepish grin and nodded, her no longer fidgeting hands fell to her side, shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. That moment of calm only lasted a flash as the door to the diner parted as another young girl strolled into the room.

Shouts of celebration rang out, bouncing off the metal walls that surrounded them all. "Surprise!" Scout shouted gleefully at the blonde girl, whose green eyes widened with astonishment, then crinkled as a wide smile spread across her tanned and freckled face. Giddy laughter overtook Lola as she ran over to her best friend, blowing by her father who chuckled at her enthusiasm. The two girls embraced, rocking back and forth as laughter erupted from either side, Lola's mane of unmanageable blonde hair shielding them both momentarily from the outside world. Scout was the first to step back, a smile still plastered on her face, "So, we surprised you right? Your dad said you were onto us, and I was so scared that someone had spilled the beans!"

Lola nodded vigorously, "You totally got me, I had no idea. This is amazing Scout, I can't believe you did all this!" She gestured to the room, and unlike when Butch had done it earlier, this was a gesture of awe and true appreciation.

Scout blushed at her friend's kind words, waving her off, "Your dad did most of the work, but I did the decorations!"

"And what's a party without awesome decorations?" Her friend reassured her.

"What's a party without a gift too?" Scout pulled out the rolled comic book that had been resting in the back pocket of her vault suit. Lola's eyes lit up at the book. She'd read nearly every comic  in the vault, which was impressive, but even more so, as getting Lola to read anything was like pulling teeth. Scout presented the comic with flourish, holding it up with one hand, while her other hand waved below it, "Grognak the Barbarian, issue number 14, with no missing pages!" 

Lola's mouth fell open, hand extending and grabbing the nearly pristine comic as Scout held it out to her. She flipped through the pages, as if she needed to confirm such a rare sight with her own eyes. She paused, sharing a dubious look with Scout as her friend informed her where she had acquired such a treasure. "You're tellin' me your dad, _the Overseer_ , used to read Grognak?"

Scout held up her hands, palms facing outwards, in front of her, "I know, I know."

Lola flipped through a couple more pages before embracing Scout in another hug, "Thanks Ace, this is the best birthday ever."

Scout smiled at the nickname, returning one of her own, "Only the best for my best friend, Lolly." Scout looked over Lola's shoulder and snickered, stepping back once more, "Old Lady Palmer won't stop staring, I think she wants to give you something." The two girls smiled and waved at the older woman, sitting at a booth, opposite of the Overseer who was now standing up and walking towards the pair.

The middle aged man donned an insincere smile as he joined the girls. Neither Lola nor Scout could greet him as he was already launching into a speech about vault responsibilities and becoming a functioning member of society. Scout cringed, her father sounding like a broken record as the only words that ever managed to leave his mouth were about the vault or something equally as boring. She sighed with relief has he finally came to the end of his speech, presenting to Lola a Pip-Boy 3000. Lola accepted the gadget, attaching it to her left wrist, inspecting it by pressing all the buttons and cranking all the knobs. The Overseer's sincere facade cracked for a moment as he saw the child indelicately fidget with the machine. "You will be getting your first work assignment tomorrow," and with a dry laugh, Scout's father walked past them, seemingly getting ready to leave the party.

"Oh boy Mr. Overseer sir, I just can't wait," Lola shouted from behind him, also faking sincerity. His step hitched briefly, but he straightened his shoulders and continued to the door.

A familiar disappointment washed over Scout. She was used to her father flaking on plans or only bothering to show up for a few minutes. He always claimed he had more important business to attend to, that the Vault didn't stop running just because she wanted it to. Scout barely registered that Lola was talking to her, her gaze only being interrupted as Lola waved her Pip-Boy in front of her eyes. "Yeah, I'll help you learn how to use it, sure." Satisfied with that answer, Lola went off to go talk to her other party guests, leaving Scout alone. She watched as Lola walked up to Old Lady Palmer, and chuckled at Lola's face. Far as she could tell, the old woman was launching into one of her speeches about the good ol' days. Scout took this opportunity to rush up to her father, grabbing his hand.

He turned around, looking down at his daughter, brows furrowed and, matching with his daughter, dark circles under his eyes. "What is it Scout? I'm very busy, you know this, I don't know why we keep having to have this conversation over and over again." He was referring to the countless times Scout would beg him to stay or come to an event with her and he would explain to her why that wasn't feasible. It usually ended up with tears and exasperated apologies but no change.

Scout glared, "I'm not asking you to stay, you're busy, I know." Her curt response caught her father off guard, not used to hearing Scout use that tone with him, or anyone really. "I asked you not to get all official today. I don't think anyone got your joke, or even found it funny. I know I didn't."

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Scout, I'm the Overseer, it's my job to be official, besides, that little friend of yours could use a reminder that life is not all fun and games."

Scout broke her gaze, boot kicking the ground once more. She felt hot, heat radiating through her chest and up to her cheeks. Her fingernails dug into her palm as she clenched her fists, "Yeah, well, I don't think anyone needs that reminder when you're around."

Scout's father was surprised the words of a child could wound him so deeply. He knew that he and Scout didn't have the best relationship, try as he might. Balancing the responsibilities of the Vault and the responsibilities of a single father was proving to be impossible, and he had told himself if he had to give up on some of those responsibilities so the others didn't suffer, he would always choose the Vault. It wasn't a hard choice when it came down to it. He was given this role for a reason and he wouldn't let down an entire Vault full of people to win an award for the Vault's best father.

He sighed, looking conflicted at his daughter. He reached a hand out to comfort her before being interrupted by a message on his Pip-Boy. Reading it, he pulled his hand back and swiftly left the diner, leaving Scout alone once more.

That moment of rolling anger was gone just as fast as it'd came, now replaced by feelings of self loathing and inner turmoil. Why wasn't she enough? Scout forced herself to turn around, just in time to see Old Lady Palmer hand Lola a sweet roll. Scout began to walk over to her friend as Andy, the Mister Handy robot who works in the diner, began to cut the cake with his built in buzz saw.

Frosting. Frosting flew everywhere as the buzz saw obliterated the small birthday cake, sending dollops of frosting and chunks of cake to the walls, covering anyone in the vicinity. Scout, clumps of cake stuck in her braids, met her friend's gaze, the tips of Lola's eyelashes covered in frosting as she blinked. The pair paused for a beat before doubling over in laughter, clutching their stomachs as they giggled uncontrollably. The disappointment of another event abandoned by her father forgotten, Scout wiped the frosting from Lola's face.

Lola chuckled, thanking Scout before pausing. She glanced around, everyone too busy scraping bits of cake off themselves to notice the two of them, and leaned over, placing a quick peck on Scout's cheek, right where a bit of frosting had landed. "There we go, got it," Lola said, cheeks matching the flush that had now spread across Scout's face. A small smile spread across Scout's face, as her hand held against her face where her friend has kissed her. The two were silent, both sharing a knowing smile, but not knowing exactly how they were feeling, though they didn't have to know exactly what they were feeling to know they very much liked and were comfortable in it.

The small, tranquil moment among the chaos was broken up by Butch, who had made his way in between them, elbowing Scout backwards as he got in Lola's face. Scout let out a small yelp of pain, almost slipping on the remnants of cake on the ground, "That dumb robot ruined the cake. Gimme that sweet roll Old Lady Palmer gave you," he demanded.

Lola smiled, eyebrows raising, feigning innocence, holding up the sweet roll in her hand, "This sweet roll?" Before Butch could respond, Lola shoved the entire thing into her mouth, bits of the bread spilling out the sides of her lips as she attempted to speak, 'Sorry, I ate it."

Another fit of laughter overtook the girls as Butch chased Lola around the diner, Lola holding out a soggy handful of bread, offering it to Butch as she fled. Eventually, Officer Gomez stepped in, reprimanding Butch as Lola explained what happened, leading him away. Lola's father walked over to his daughter, whispering something in her ear. She gave Scout a confused glance and shrugged her shoulders, walking out of the diner and down the hall.

Scout stood in the middle of the diner, cake strewn about, balloons deflated, and a group of boys flinging insults in her direction, but the only thing she could do was stare at her best friend with massive grin, hand again pressed to her cheek.

 


	2. She's Locked Eye With the Pitcher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lola and Scout have to take the G.O.A.T. today, but not before a quick panic attack and a brawl in the hallways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More expanding relationships and fleshing out characters. I want these peeps to be developed by the time we get to the meat and potatoes of this fic (when Lola leaves.) I like writing this mundane stuff, sometimes more than the exciting parts. I'm sure you can tell based on how much I write.

Scout stood in front of her bathroom mirror, knuckles white from clutching the edge of the sink, pale skin not providing much contrast against the porcelain. Water droplets splashed onto the tops of her hands, running down into the basin of the sink. The cold water she had doused her face in wasn't doing much to calm her nerves. Her breathing accelerated, almost too quickly for her to keep up with. Scout gulped down lung-fulls of air but it wasn't enough, it never was. A cold sweat was beginning on the back of her neck and forehead, though her cheeks were ablaze. Scout brought her cold hands to her face, whispering to herself to calm down.

She didn't.

It was the day of the G.O.A.T. The General Occupational Aptitude Test, a test that every Vault member of the age 16 has to take, no exceptions. It determines what career path a vault member is most suited for, and only in rare circumstances were vault dwellers assigned a job outside of those results. The test is responsible for, basically, the rest of your life, and Scout wasn't ready to face it. She knew she was expected by everyone, but mainly her father, to follow him in becoming Overseer. She couldn't think of a job she'd rather do less. Even garbage incinerator seemed like a dream compared to the former.

Her father had been rigorous in his training her for this day. He would never outright tell her what answers to choose, but he heavily suggested the ones she should. Scout gasped for breath, flashes of memories from her childhood burning in her mind, countless nights of going to bed in an empty apartment, sneaking out to be with Lola just so she wouldn't have to be alone with her thoughts for another night. She remembered all the childhood school activities where fellow classmates brought their parents to class so they could talk about their jobs, but Scout, no, Scout never got to participate _because we all know who your father is. You must be so proud to have such a hardworking dad._

She wasn't. Scout didn't want that life, not for her, or her future family if she were to have one.

As Scout grew up, she resented her father a little more with each day. She got a first hand look of how a relationship between a father and daughter could be so wonderful when she was with Lola and her father, James. She envied her closest friend, and Lola knew, so she would always invite her over or out with her father. The gesture wasn't lost on Scout, nor her father, whose tolerance of Lola grew less and less throughout the years.

Swaying at the counter, blood felt as if it were rushing in her ears, the sounds of the sink faucet growing dim. Scout's vision narrowed as she focused on a point in front of her, counting her breaths like Dr. Westen had suggested when she had confided in him one night about the panic attacks she suffered. She would have mentioned it sooner, but Scout's father always attended her appointments. Scout wasn't sure if it was because he didn't trust the doctor or her. She counted out loud, pulling herself out of the panic attack and back to reality. She sighed, body drooping as her senses and breathing returned to normal. She hadn't even noticed she had been crying until she felt a tear drip off the tip of her nose.

Wiping her face, Scout walked out of the bathroom and into the common area of the apartment she shared with her father who was sitting at the dining room table. He stood, looking concerned at the state Scout was in. Her face was red and puffy, eyes irritated and the sleeve of her vault jumpsuit was inelegantly covered in tears and snot. She brushed by him, grabbing her bag, stuffing books and pens into it.

He paused, hand outstretched and reaching towards her shoulder. Pulling it back, he straightened up, clearing his throat, "Scout, I shouldn't have to tell you this, but you seem to need to be reminded of it, leading this vault is your destiny. You were born to do this-"

Scout's body tensed as she listened to his words, then released, the book in her hand slamming onto the table, "Maybe, maybe I don't want to lead, dad. Did that thought ever cross your mind?"

The Overseer was taken aback by his daughters outburst. She wasn't one quick to anger, but these flare-ups of attitude were quickly becoming commonplace. His face grew cold, expression tight, "Yes, well Scout, we don't always get what we want, for example, wanting a daughter who wasn't always trying so hard to embarrass me." He turned to leave to his office, but paused, turning his face to the side, but not making eye contact, "Your mother would be so disappointed in you," and with that, Scout's father, the Overseer, retreated into his office, leaving Scout to digest his words.

Scout's chest tightened with sorrow at the mention of her mother, a woman who died too soon for Scout to really remember anything about her. It was one of the more somber elements of their friendship, Lola's mother also dying long before the girl could get to know her. Some nights the pair would lay in bed together, dreaming out loud about what their mothers might have been like. They would have been best friends, and so very kind, yes, they would have been lovely. Those memories dissolved, withering from the outside in as the Overseer's words poisoned them. Would Scout's mother really be disappointed in her for simply wanting to follow her own path in life? She would never know, and that feeling of uncertainty followed Scout as she made her way out of her apartment and through the atrium.

As she walked, Scout faced a raging battle within herself. Part of her wanted to take the G.O.A.T and answer honestly, taking whatever results she was given with a smile on her face. Though, the other half of her couldn't get her father's parting words out of her mind, nor the fact that while she constantly daydreamed about taking control of her own life, at the end of the day, she always did as she was told, playing her part as the Overseer's obedient daughter. Her face displaying the anguish she felt inside, Scout trotted down the stairs to the lower level of the Vault, making her way to the classroom, still not any closer to a decision.

Her inner debate was halted prematurely as three teenaged boys blocked her path into the classroom. She was so close, she could see inside, but the blockade of boys stopped any forward progress. She readjusted her bag, folding her arms across her chest, trying to brush through them wordlessly. They snickered while blocking Scout's path with their shoulders, pushing her backwards. Butch leaned in, taunting her, "Huh, surprised daddy didn't walk you to class. Did you get his permission before leaving your apartment?" Paul and Wally laughed from either side of their ringleader. 

Scout dipped her head, closing herself off even more from them, drawing another reaction from Butch. He snaked his arm around Scout's back, tugging on the single braid her hair was pulled into, "Aw, daddy do your hair before the big day too?" Once again, the two boys on either side of him erupted in laughter. There was a pause, the laughter dying down before Butch continued, the jovial yet insulting tone now absent from his comments, "I don't know why you even bothered showin' up. Everyone knows your daddy won't let you end up with a shit job like the rest of us. Nah, you're goin' straight to the top, ain't that right boys?" They nodded vigorously, sneering at Scout, Butch taking a step closer, "That silver spoon you got in your mouth taste good girlie? Wanna swap it out for something else?" Butch raised his eyebrows repeatedly, gesturing down to his crotch.

Wally howled with laughter, "Yeah, wanna taste our tunnel snakes?" Butch smacked him on the shoulder, glaring at his compatriot.

"Come on man, it's all about the subtlety. We talked about this, we ain't kids anymore."

Scout took a deep breath, glancing to the side, "God, Butch, why don't you just leave me alone?"

Butch closed the remaining few inches between him and Scout. Though he wasn't taller than her, his presence intimidated her as if he stood an entire foot over her. She shrunk into herself even more, glancing at the floor. Butch continued the onslaught of insulting remarks,  "You think you're special just because your daddy is the Overseer? Well, I got news for you bitch-"

A familiar voice rang out from down the hallway, Scout nearly bursting into tears at the sound of it. The voice grew louder as the person speaking continued towards the group Scout found herself in, "If the news is that your mother burned all your ration coupons on liqueur, we already knew that Butchie, that's old news." Lola sauntered up, an unapologetic smirk playing on her lips, her dirty blonde hair pulled in a high half ponytail, blonde tresses falling on either side of her face.

"Here we go," was all Scout managed to get out before the scene in front of her devolved into chaos, blonde hair and leather jackets tangling into one ball of disarray.

 


	3. Phew! She Barely Dodged That Pitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A G.O.A.T. gets taken, trust is betrayed, and the girls have a moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we get a lil' gay up in here.

Scout flattened herself against the cold, metal wall as her best friend, Lola, brawled with the entirety of the Tunnel Snakes gang. The dark haired girl desperately wanted to help her blonde haired guardian angel, but Scout wasn't one for confrontation, let alone getting involved in a physical fight. She had always been told to her mind her business, lest her actions reflect badly on her, but more importantly, on the Overseer. She watched as Lola held her own against the boys, using her legs, strengthened from seasons of playing baseball, to kick Wally in the chest, sending him to the ground gasping for air. Another flick of blonde curls and tanned fists had Paul holding the side of his head while a flood of curses fled from his mouth. Lola dared to laugh for a moment, giving Butch just enough time to swing a fist into Lola's stomach, but her smile never faded, and she threw herself at Butch, who looked momentarily terrified, sending them both to the floor. A smile of admiration and just sheer disbelief crept its way up onto Scout's face. She was in awe of the girl before her, so confident and fearless, willing to defend anyone who needed it. It seemed as if she took nothing seriously and lived her life without a care in the world. Scout looked up to her, attempting to emulate, but never could capture what gave Lola an edge.

Scout's affectionate thinking was interrupted as she saw Mr. Brotch approaching. She cleared her throat loudly, drawing the attention of the mass of tangled limbs on the floor. Butch pushed Lola's arm off from around his neck, and stood up, "Alright, that's enough. I think she's learned her lesson," He tugged his jacket down and back into place before stalking off with his two lackeys behind him, both tending to their bumps and bruises. Scout followed them to the classroom with her eyes, finally moving from her spot on the wall to hurry over to Lola, who was still laying flat on the ground, arms and legs sprawled out, blonde curls swirling out from around her head, a small smile playing at her lips, which were lightly coated with a thin layer of blood.

Scout shook her head and kneeled, pulling the girl up into a sitting position, her eyes not opening and her smile not fading. Scout licked the tip of her thumb and touched it lightly to Lola's lip, fingers resting on the side of her face. Scout's breathing hitched, looking at Lola who was flush from fighting, skin just ever so slick with sweat, bottom lip slightly pulled down by her thumb. She was amazed someone could still look so lovely after a fight. She regained focus, rubbing the bit of blood from Lola's lip, but not removing her thumb. "While I appreciate what you did- what you always do, you're going to get yourself hurt one of these days, really hurt."

Lola's eyes finally opened, lively green eyes looking up from under thick, brown lashes at Scout's worried face. She opened her mouth slightly, pulling her bottom lip in, Scout's thumb moving with it, and gently bit it, a wide grin spreading. Scout's concerned expression cracked, her body loosening, arms falling into her lap. "Relax Ace, I'm fine and I always will be fine. Do you want to know why?" Scout's eyebrows raised inquisitively. "Because we live in this big, dumb vault and nothin' ever happens, ever. A fight here and there isn't gonna kill me. In fact, it's goin' to save me from losing my damn mind in this metal tomb!" Lola's voice was bordering on being too loud by the time she reached the end of her explanation.

Scout chuckled, standing up, pulling Lola with her, "Okay, Lolly, I think you've been reading one too many of Beatrice's poems." She brushed the dust off her friend who was now looking dejected. Scout tapped her hip against Lola's, "Come on, we have to go take this test," She looked at her friend who, in this moment, looked unsure of herself, something Scout wasn't used to seeing.

Lola folded her arms, scowling now, "Why?"

Scout paused, "Uh..."

She continued, "Why do we have to take this dumb test? So they can have another way to control every aspect of our lives? We're only 16, Scout! We're not- I'm not ready to have my whole life planned out," Her eyes were wide, a hint of desperation to her voice. Scout was taken aback as she was usually the one needing to be calmed down when it came down to doubt about the future. "Like, just because I'm some idiot kid now I could have to burn garbage for the rest of my life? How is that fair?"

Scout stepped forward, placing her hands on either side of Lola's face, forcing her attention to what she was about to say, "Lola, you aren't an idiot. I know I have to help you with your homework sometimes, but there is more than one kind of intelligence.  You have the biggest heart and you're hilarious. You're gonna kill it at whatever job you get, and knowing you, you could find a way into whatever job you wanted anyways. So, let's go take this fucking test," Scout finished with intensity, a rare swear word escaping her lips. In trying to re-instill confidence in Lola, Scout found herself sure of what she was going to do regarding the test. She was going to be honest and true to herself and let any thought of her father and his wants drift away during the exam. Lola was right, this was their future and it shouldn't be dictated, not completely, by anyone other than themselves.

Lola grinned, "Damn girl, so this is what your on-the-field confidence looks like off of a baseball diamond, I love it," She clasped her hands over Scout's bringing them down and giving them a squeeze before letting go, the two girls walking into the classroom. They were the last students the teacher was waiting on, giving them an impatient look. The class could tell Mr. Brotch wanted to get this test done just as much as they did. Scout found her way to her seat, but Lola didn't. Scout watched her friend trot up to the teacher, and begin to talk to him. She couldn't make out what Lola was saying, but Mr. Brotch sighed and nodded at whatever it was she was saying. Lola's face lit up and she turned, winking at Scout before exiting the classroom. Scout's mouth fell open in disbelief. That girl could get anything she wanted, and Scout often was amazed Lola used her persuasive skills for good, most of the time.

Mr. Brotch made his way to the front of the classroom and began to read off of a sheet of paper, explaining the test in a flat voice. He began reading the first question, listing off the multiple answer choices. Lola knew which answers her father heavily suggested she mark in order to get his desired outcome, but she pushed them away, taking the test with a clear mind, answering truthfully, confident in her answers, though technically, there weren't any right answers, supposedly. Though, as far as Scout was concerned, any answer that wasn't what her father suggested was the right one. She pushed a few strands of dark hair that had managed to come undone from her braid away from her eyes and smiled. Her heart was racing as the test came to a close, but this was a rare occasion where it wasn't out of fear or anxiety, no, this was the way your heart raced when you did something exciting, when you conquered a challenge. This was the feeling of victory.

Mr. Brotch sat at his desk now, students walking to him with their tests, even the most confident and pompous of students looked a bit worried. Scout stood, moving behind them, snickering as she heard Butch's test results; he'd be working in the salon. Not even Butch shouldering her out of the way in a motion of frustration could break her high. She handed the test to the familiar face of her teacher, a smile already on her face.

It didn't last.

Brotch, not even looking at her paper delivered her future in the same uncaring tone as he had read the test, "Supervisory track, congratulations."

Scout's eyebrows furrowed and her head tilted slightly, "No..." She thought back to her answers, all different than what her father had told her, "Mr. Brotch, that simply isn't possible, I-"

He cut her off, sighing, "Your father is the Overseer Scout, anything is possible," He was gathering up their tests and filing them away in his desk nonchalantly, as if it was any other school day.

Scout's mind raced, though it didn't need to travel far. She came to the obvious conclusion quickly; her father rigged the test for her. She could have handed in a blank piece of paper and the results would have been the same. This was just an illusion of free will that had just been shattered by the soft spoken truth that Mr. Brotch had unceremoniously dumped at her feet. Scout could feel the panic creeping up her spine, infesting her lungs, her breathing starting to quicken. She shifted, suddenly aware of everything her skin was in contact with; the way her vault jumpsuit scratched on her shoulders, how her braid was just a little too tight on one side, pulling at her scalp when she turned her head, one of her socks slipping off her ankle in her boots. She needed to know what her future would have been like without her father's meddling, not that it would make a difference anyway. Her father's plans and expectations loomed over her, sending chills up her neck. "Can you please just score my test and tell me what profession I got, Mr. Brotch, please?" Scout not longer stood tall, eyes darting to the floor, it hasn't lasted long.

He sighed, and this wasn't one out of annoyance like usual, there was pity to be found. Scout heard a ruffling of papers, "Well, well. Pip-Boy Programmer, eh? Stanley would have finally had someone to talk shop with. It's a shame."

Scout nodded, thanking him briskly before walking out of the classroom, tears threatening to spill at the thought of a life she wouldn't be allowed to live. Scout rushed by everyone she passed in the hallway, flying down stairs, trying to reach the room Lola had showed her many years ago, a small room filled with metal targets that Lola's father had set up for her.

Lola had brought her down there shortly after her father had revealed it to her, wanting to share this with her best friend, and also because she wouldn't get much use out of it. Lola didn't like guns, being around security always made her nervous, and the BB gun her father had placed in the hands at the age of ten didn't lessen that fear.

Scout's hands began to shake as her body felt as though it was vibrating, breath trapped in her throat, unable to inhale or exhale. She threw herself through the door and into the room with the shooting range, the sense of familiarity and memories of late night excursions through the vault to reach here so she could meet up with Lola in the dead of night battled with the crushing anxiety that all of this would soon be nothing more than one of those fading memories. Scout paced, hot tears falling down her face, muttering to herself to calm down, hands pulling at her vault jumpsuit. Her ears were ringing and had been since she left the classroom, so she was unable to hear when the door slid open behind her. She was suddenly spun around, coming face to face with Lola, a look of incredible worry on her face, "I've been calling your name, didn't you hear me? What happened Scout? Was it Butch? I swear to God, I'll kill him if he-"

Scout shook her head, sobbing now at the gentle touch of her friend, leaning into her. Lola's voice softened, "Scout... Oh, hun." She was rubbing the back of her distraught friend, trying her best to calm her down. Eventually the sobbing lessened, harsh cries were replaced with the frequent sound of Scout sniffling. She pulled away from Lola, eyes irritated and puffy, braid almost completely undone.

"My dad rigged the test," Scout said with a sardonic smile, eyes still wet, "It didn't matter what my answers were, Brotch told me I was headed for the supervisory track before he had even looked at my test." She shook her head, lowering herself to the ground, and laying back, welcoming the cool metal on her heated skin. Closing her eyes, she laughed dryly, "I was an idiot for thinking there was ever going to be a different outcome."

Lola sighed, lying down beside her, "You weren't an idiot, you were brave, Scout. You stood up to your dad today, that's huge. I've seen the grasp he has on you, the way he withholds praise unless you follow his every command, and it's messed up. You deserve better." 

Scout smiled at her friend's words, she did stand up for herself today, even if it didn't end up mattering, "Thanks Lolly, at least I can always count on you, which is more than I can say for my own father, which _is_ super messed up," Scout paused, and spoke again, voice quieter, "I don't want to end up like my father, Lola. I don't want that life."

Lola turned, propped herself up on her elbow, and looked over to Scout, a stern look on her face, "You're not anything like your father. You're kind and loyal, patient. You aren't harsh or unfair, and you always put others before yourself, like me. I know how much your dad hates that we're friends, but you never let it stop you. I remember that time your dad caught you picking the lock to leave your house one night. I didn't see you for, like, 2 whole weeks!" They girls shared a laugh, falling into silence after, though a more comfortable one this time. "But you came back for me, you always did."

Lola scooted closer to her friend, bodies pressing together lightly. "We're going to make it through this, Scout. Even if we gotta bust our way out of this place," she joked. Scout and Lola often spent time fantasizing about leaving the vault somehow, roaming whatever remained of the world together. It was a fantasy to keep them sane, both not being fond of being confined to the vault.

Scout now turned to her side, propping herself up similarly to Lola, a wistful smile on her face, "And we'll start our own wasteland baseball team and smash whatever competition is out there. What do you think about the 'Wasteland Warriors?' That's a good name."

Lola chuckled, "I prefer the 'Pitch Bitches' myself, super classy if you ask me."

The girls laughed at the silly names they came up with. They knew they would more than likely die in this vault, but they both held out a naive hope that they would get out together; a silly thought, but they cherished it.

Lola looked at Scout, then looked away, clearing her throat, "For what it's worth, Ace, I think you'd make a great Overseer. I think whoever is left at that point would finally see you for how great you really are."

Scout smiled at her friend who was blushing now, and before she could thank her for the kinds words, Lola's lips pressed against Scout's, her hand on the curve of Scouts waist, pulling her closer. Scout closed her eyes, leaning into the kiss, their soft lips meeting for the first time. Scout would be lying if she said she hadn't thought about this happening, yearned for it. There was always a connection that went beyond friendship between the two of them, though both never spoke of it. They would share glances and fleeting touches, but never step over that line, and of course it was Lola who we be the first to. Scout's face flared with heat, pale cheeks growing flush, hand nestling into the blonde hair she was so familiar with. If Scout could stop time, she would pause it here forever. They were untouchable in the moment, but Scout knew it would end.

A small alarm beeped, and Scout pulled away first, glancing down at her Pip-Boy, "We're going to be late for practice."

Lola smiled, planting a soft peck on Scout's cheek, "Well, then we better get going," Lola stood, pulling Scout up with her. Hand in hand, they left the small room, ascending the stairs.

Scout let go of Lola's hand as they stepped out into the hallway, their moment coming to a close, but Scout's smile didn't fade, for that was one moment, one choice that her father couldn't take away from her.


	4. Down She Goes, and That One Had to Hurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trouble in metal paradise; confrontations, ultimatums, secret doctor visits?! The dominoes are beginning to fall, can the girls outrun them?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're getting close the THE inciting moment! but until then, mooooooore exposition and character development. talk about depression and anxiety here. also, yeah, a recreation floor lol. THEY HAVE SPORTS TEAMS. there is no way they can play baseball in any other part of the vault.

Lying in bed, Scout stared at the metal ceiling she had grown so accustomed to. Many nights had been spent staring at it, vision blurred with tears, either out of sadness and anger, sometimes both. So familiar, this ceiling.

There were no tears today.

No, Scout had a plan today. A plan to take back part of her life from her father. She'd been spending so much time with him over the past few years, and had you told a younger Scout this, she would have been elated. However, they weren't spending time together as a father and daughter, but as Overseer and future Overseer. Today would be yet another day of her father going over information and plans pertinent to the upkeep of the vault, or it would be if Scout didn't have other plans of her own. 

Scout didn't get much sleep last night, nor the night before that, or the one before that. She actually couldn't remember the last time she didn't feel drained, didn't feel the weight of her bones or the dryness in her eyes as she fought off sleep deprivation to finish going over some procedure or drill her father would quiz her on. She was kept busy by her father and kept herself busy with baseball and Lola, anything to distract herself from the crushing weight of her future that was slowly bearing down on her, getting closer with each passing day. Scout couldn't be scared or panic if she didn't have time to, so she never stopped or slowed for a moment, but she knew she couldn't keep it up; physically or mentally.

An alarm sounded on her Pip-Boy but Scout was already waiting for it, dismissing it with a turn of a knob. Sighing, she stood, trudging her way over to her bathroom, stripping off articles of clothes as she went. She showered, braided her hair as she did everyday, dressed in her baseball practice vault jumpsuit, one that had been worn in, allowing her the most freedom of movement, and walked out into the living room portion of the apartment she shared with her father.

He was sitting on the couch, reading files, the swamp of manila folders he was surrounded by made Scout feel a bit nauseous, a brief glimpse into her future. She swallowed, grabbing a black, canvas bag that was filled with baseball gloves, bats, and other assorted items she would need for practice. She made her way towards the door, hoping her father would be too wrapped up in his work to notice her, but as was usually the case, he only seemed to notice her when he needed something from her.

Calling out without turning around, he spoke, "I should hope you're not seriously considering leaving to go play games, Scout."

Scout stopped, scoffing, "I should hope you're not seriously considering trying to stop me, Mason."

The older man stood and turned, a terse look on his face, "Excuse me? We have work to do. If you ever expect to be ready to take over this position you need to-"

Scout cut him off, putting a hand up, "I need to what? As far as I am concerned, I'm keeping your secret, you rigging my test, remember that?" She began to walk the remaining distance to the door, but unable to stop herself, she turned back to face him, "How do you think the other parents would feel? Do you think they'd just accept that their precious children have to burn garbage and unclog toilets the rest of their life? Or do you think it would call into question literally every decision you've ever made regarding this vault? I'm thinking the latter, but hey, what do I know? You're the one who knows this vault and the people in it so well, you do the math." With that, she was walking out of the apartment, bag flung over her shoulder, her face hot with anger, knuckles white from clutching the strap of the bag too tight.

Scout wasn't so harsh usually, she would have outbursts from time to time, but she noticed they'd been increasing, how she would snap at her father on the rare occasion he didn't deserve it. She was short on patience almost always, keeping herself isolated as to not start meaningless fights over mundane things. She recalled an incident the month prior, where she and her teammate nearly came to blows because, instead of running out a play during practice, her teammate meandered to first base, drawing the ire of Scout. Lola eventually was able to draw Scout away, questioning why she was upset over something so minor. Scout couldn't answer because, truth be told, she didn't know. She didn't know why she had become so angry this past year or so. Her sadness had been overtaken my a new monster, one that reminded her too much of her father.

She could see it easily. Scout could see herself ten or so years in the future, overseeing the vault. It wasn't her, though, not truly. It was someone who lacked empathy, someone who was cold so as to not let personal feelings interfere with their jobs. It was someone who didn't have friends, just subordinates and enemies. It was Scout if she couldn't- if she didn't get her emotions under control, because it would be easy. It would be so easy for her to let go of the last bit of agency she had and just let her father mold her into the perfect Overseer, let him sculpt out her kindness and replace it with sternness, shape her forgiving nature into one who neither forgives nor forgets. No, she would do everything she could to stop this process, this horribly ugly and cold metamorphism.

Scout grit her teeth, traveling to the lower level of the Vault, arriving not at baseball practice, but at the front of a familiar door. She was outside the clinic. The stood, staring at the door, willing herself to move, just to take a step closer. She was startled when the door slid open, revealing a surprised but happy looking Dr. Westen, "Scout! Lola already left for practice, figured you would have been there already." He looked at her inquisitively, as anytime she showed up at their doorstep, it was to see her best friend.

Scout shifted the bag on her shoulder, suddenly aware of its weight, "Actually," she cleared her throat, "I'm here to see you. That is, if you have a minute. I should have made an appointment, I know-"

The doctor waved her off, smiling, "Of course I have a moment for you Scout, come in, come in," He ushered her inside, walking past the waiting area, motioning for her to join him in his office. She followed, the door closing shut behind her, the air suddenly feeling much thinner in the room. She sat opposite of him as he sat behind his desk, looking at her with patience.

Scout broke eye contact, the bag falling to the ground beside her. Her hands fiddled in her lap, fingers brushing over knuckles, nails digging into skin. She took a deep breath before speaking, "I think there's something wrong with me Mr. Westen," and with that, the floodgates opened, tears spilling down her face, hand now over her mouth, trying to stifle the sobs. Scout hadn't realized what she had been holding in, how freeing stating a simple truth was. Dr. Westen rolled his chair over to hers, placing a hand on her back for support. He didn't say anything, just let the cathartic confession work its way through Scout's body.

A few minutes passed, long enough for Scout to regain some composure, no longer sobbing, but an occasional tear falling down her cheek. The doctor sighed, offering a light smile, rolling back behind his desk. "What do you think is wrong with you Scout?"

She sighed, scooting down in her chair, eyes focused on one of the buttons on the doctor's coat, "I have anxiety. I've had it since I was a kid, but I didn't know what it was called back then. I'm just sad, all the time. They were just moments of sadness at first, which I thought was normal," the doctor nodded, "But then they grew longer and now it feels like my life is just sadness and there are only moments of happiness." She cleared her throat, brushing a few strands of hair behind her ear, still wet from the shower she'd taken. "Uh, I've been getting angry a lot, over stupid things," Her eyebrows furrowed, trying to distill her feelings down enough to where she could explain them clearly, "I'm not an angry person, you know that, I never have been, but lately, I'm just..."

"Lately you're just pissed off at everything and everyone, yeah?" Dr. Westen asked sincerely, Scout nodding in response. He hummed to himself, leaning back in his chair. "VDS, Vault Depressive Syndrome, you've heard of this I'm sure."

"Yeah, I've heard about it over the intercom and on some bulletins."

He nodded, expanding on it, "I think you suffer from it, and I think you have suffered from it for a while. I-" He paused, staring at Scout with a remorseful look in his eyes, "I brought it up with your father several times over the years. I saw the symptoms and I let him know of my concerns, but he brushed me off. Unfortunately, you were a minor, there wasn't much I could do, but to just try and be there for you if you needed it." His expression darkened, leaning forward, his voice was tinged with regret, "I should have been more forceful with him Scout, for your sake. He's the Overseer, though, and there's only so much you can do, I tried my hardest."

Scout sat, body still, hands motionless, eyes fixed on the older man in front of her. Her father had known, he had known she was hurting and that she could be fixed, but he didn't allow it. She had no doubt in her mind why, gossip was as good as ration coupons in the vault. If it got out that his daughter, the successor to the Overseer position was sick, was sick and needed medication in order just to function, it would have been a scandal, and he would never have any of that. So, instead, he condemned his daughter to years of emotional turmoil and suffering. He had always said there isn't anything he wouldn't do for the good of the vault and for once, Scout actually believed he meant it. Rage bubbled inside, but she fought to keep it at bay, swallowing as if that could physically hold it down. Keeping her voice steady as best she could, Scout inquired about treatment, "So, how do we fix it?"

The doctor gazed upon her, confused, as he had expected more of a reaction from her. Reequipping himself with an air of professionalism, he cleared his throat. "This isn't something you fix, like a broken bone. It's something you treat, and continue to treat so it doesn't make a reappearance, like cancer. Now, I'm not saying you'll always be depressed, but treating something like this, something caused by something you can't escape, that's difficult." Scout's face fell, eyes trailing to the floor, that wasn't the answer she had wanted. Noticing, Dr. Westen spoke again, "Scout, you can beat this, and sure, you may have a few relapses, but you have a support system here, with me and Lola," he paused, "You could tell your father you're getting treatment, you're old enough, he can't stop you."

Scout chuckled once, a smile lingering, but no happiness could be found behind her eyes, "Yeah, no. He can focus on his work, and I'll focus on myself. I don't need him for this, not like he would be much help anyways." A silence fell over the two, Scout's anger had faded in the quiet. Her father, her entire life, had worked to control her, keep her in line, so she couldn't be surprised about this, not really. Fighting for control over more parts of her life was a never ending battle, but she had won one in the clinic today.

Dr. Westen and Scout spent a couple hours going over treatment options and decided to try out a medication, going over the side effects and dosages. Scout threw the bottle of pills into her bag and stood up from the chair, the doctor joining her. Unlike her father, he didn't hesitate to show reassurance or affection, embracing her in a warm hug. "This is going to be rough Scout, but you're so tough. Coming in here, alone, was courageous, don't forget that. You took your life into your own hands today, be proud of that." His arms fell away, a warm smile on his face that Scout couldn't help but return.

Nodding, she turned leaving the clinic, a new sense of pride having overcome her. It was a nice feeling, one she didn't feel often, and she hoped it would last. Checking her Pip-Boy, she cursed under her breath. She had missed practice, something the co-captain isn't supposed to do. Hustling through the halls, she made her way down to the recreation floor, jogging through the doorway as it slid open, equipment bouncing around in her bag. The recreation room was large enough to play baseball in, barely, fake grass having been installed in the majority of it. There was a track that encircled the field that usually had someone running on it, but the floor was empty, save for Lola who Scout spotted towards one end of the room, standing at home plate.

She was throwing balls up and hitting them, wooden bat sending them flying. Lola was the catcher for the team, had been for years. The practice and training she put in strengthened her legs, giving her more power than anyone on the team. She had the best batting average and Scout stood for a moment, just admiring her and her form. Another ball cracked off the bat as Scout began to make her way to Lola. "Hey slugger!" Scout shouted as she made her way across the field. Lola paused, looked at Scout but said nothing, instead throwing another ball skywards, hitting it as it made its way back down. The ball flew off the bat, a line drive that headed directly for Scout. The dark haired girl let out a started shriek, spinning to avoid the projectile, bag flying off her shoulder.

Scout paused, panting heavily, and glared at Lola with a bewildered look in her eyes. She made her way to the edge of the field and traveled the remaining distance to Lola, who had run out of balls to hit. Wordlessly, Lola started walking into the field, looking for the balls she hit. Scout strode over to her, grabbing her arm and spinning her around, "What the hell Lola? I'm sorry I missed practice, but what that necessary?"

Lola pulled her arm out of Scout's grasp and continued walking, still not speaking. Scout sighed, walking to her again, but this time she rested a hand on Lola's hip as she made her away in front of her, voice soft as she spoke, "Hey, Lolly, come on. I'm sorry, alright? I shouldn't of missed practice, especially not without telling you." Scout searched for eye contact, but Lola refused, looking to the side of her. Scout gave an exasperated smile, placing a pale hand on the tanned, sweat slicked arm of Lola. She was wearing a tank top with the top half of her jumpsuit folded down and tied at the waste. Her blonde hair was pulled into a messy pony tail, strands of hair falling into her face. She looked stunning still, and Scout couldn't count her blessings fast enough.

Finally, Lola spoke, "Where were you?"

Scout hesitated, unsure of how much of the truth she wanted to tell Lola. Ideally, she would tell her everything, but part of her worried that Lola would look down on her for needing medication, for needing help. Scout knew it was illogical, knew that Lola would support her, but there was a voice in her head, one that sounded remarkably like her father, that whispered poison into her mind. It told her that everyone would judge her, that they would think she was sick and it would be all anyone would remember when they heard her name. Scout thought about Freddie, who Lola told him had been diagnosed with VDS. Scout remembered how she had judged him for not being able to handle his problems by himself, before she had first hand experience with how hard it could be. She wondered if Lola would do the same. Unable to face the potential consequences of that admission, Scout muttered a vague answer, "I was just dealing with something."

Lola raised her eyebrows and nodded, pursing her lips. "Right, more fucking secrets."

Scout was taken aback by the harshness of Lola's tone and chosen words, but before she could respond, Lola stepped away, Scout's arms falling to her side. "I'm tired of the secrets, Scout. I'm tired of _being_ a secret."

Scout sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, "So, _this_ is what you're really mad about." Scout knew what the problem was, it was one that had existed for the past year or so. The girls had been engaging in a hidden relationship, at the insistence of Scout, who wanted to keep it hidden from everyone, mainly her father. Good things in her life didn't tend to last long, so she was prepared to hold onto this one for as long as she could. Lola was always pushing for them to go public, so they could stop being happy in closets and empty apartments and start being happy out in the open, like every other couple in the vault. They had many discussions about it, sometimes Scout could feel them careening into a fight, but always managed to stop it with promises that if they just waited a little longer, just a few more months, everything would be better.

It never got better and Lola was tired of waiting.

Frustrated at a setback coming at the heels of her small victory earlier, Scout sighed, trying to keep an even tone, "Lola, please don't do this, not now. I just need a little more time, that's all."

Lola scoffed, "A little more time? All I give you is time, Scout." She paced while speaking, "You need time away from me to ease your father's suspicions. You need time to go do whatever the hell you were doing during practice. You need time to figure all of this out. Well, guess what Scout? You've run out of time." The blonde haired girl sighed, stepping towards Scout, placing a hand on her secret partner's chest, "I know what I want. I can't waste any more time, Scout. So..." She stepped back, dipping her head and wiping a few fresh tears away. Lola cleared her throat and straightened her stance, tall, but still an inch shorter than Scout, and gave her friend since childhood a small smile, "So, if you decide you're ready, for us, then I'll be in the diner tomorrow night, waiting for my girlfriend so we can go on a proper date."

Scout searched for something to say, but nothing came to mind, her mind just flooded with panic; a feeling. She couldn't think in this moment, only feel, feel the breath exhale from her lungs as she watched Lola turn and leave. She felt her head grow light as she tried to parse the ultimatum Lola had dropped at her feet, it was unfair, but so were the months Scout made Lola wait. They were both being unfair to each other, but not out of anger or spite, but affection. If they didn't feel so strongly for one another, Lola wouldn't have waited this long for Scout and Scout wouldn't be sprawled out on the outfield imitation grass, taking deep breaths and trying to stay calm.

She thought back to the words Lola's father had spoken to her, how he had called her courageous, how she had felt brave in that moment. She wondered if she would be able to summon that strength again. It was effortless to be sad when it didn't change the status quo, but far more difficult to be truly happy if it meant disrupting the natural order of things.

Scout ran her fingers over the counterfeit grass, the familiarity helping to ground her. She thought to all the games and practices spent on this field, her one true escape. Here she wasn't Scout, she was an ace, the best pitcher in the vault, and people loved her for it. She was her own person when she stepped onto the mound and pitched to her team's catcher, Lola. They were an unstoppable duo on the field, and that sense of power was palpable, even now as Scout lay alone. They could be that outside of the field, and while _it_ would be hard, _they_ wouldn't be hard. Being with Lola came just as naturally as pitching did, and sure, the odd curve ball would cross them up, but they always found their way back to their feet. They could do this, Scout could do this.

She bit her lip, smiling, a sudden burst of adrenaline coursed through Scout, she was going to do this, her father be damned. She quickly sat up and then slouched as she saw who had just walked into the recreation room. Her lip fell back into place as her smile softened, but didn't fade completely.

"Hey-o, if it isn't the Overseer's little clone. It's been a while, daddy's girl. How ya' been?" Perfectly gelled hair, a black leather jacket that had been replaced with a tight fitting white t-shirt, jeans that were exchanged for sweatpants, and pompous attitude strutted over to Scout, a dirty tennis shoe kicking hers as he arrived.

Scout ran her hands over her face before falling back onto the field, "Fuck off, Butch."

No one was going to take this feeling from her; not Butch, not the other vault residents, and certainly not her father.

No one.

 

 


	5. She’s Charging the Mound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harsh words are exchanged, tempers reach a boiling point, and a pair find out that they're not too different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all, this is the last chapter before we get the good meat and potatoes of this fic. I don’t think anyone actually reads this, but I came into this knowing that would probably be the case, lol. Regardless, if you read it, I hope you enjoy it, and I hope you’re safe and happy wherever you are.

Butch joined Scout on the fake grass, sitting next to her, legs in front of him and spread, his left leg leaning up against Scout’s thigh. The only reason they would have ever been this close a couple years ago would have been a brawl, but the time spent apart allowed them the chance to mature enough to where they could be in the same room without flinging personal insults or throwing punches. Butch and Scout weren’t close, but they came to realize they had more in common than they thought, namely disdain for the Overseer. 

Scout glanced at Butch, no longer the soft featured boy who tried so hard to make it look like he wasn’t trying at all. He had grown into his leather jacket, his features hardened, a strong jawline and perpetually furrowed eyebrows gave way to immaculately styled hair, Scout often wondered how it stayed in place so well yet looked so soft. She also often found herself wanting to touch it, but she refrained. The time he had spent working as a barber had served him well, though Scout wasn’t going to say that to his face anytime soon. She looked away, not letting her thoughts wander any farther, she’d been down that road before after seeing Butch walking home from work a few months ago. 

Lola had just stormed off, leaving Scout alone in the maintenance closet they were having an argument in. She was frustrated again with Scout’s inability to commit herself openly to her and promptly left after hearing another one of Scout’s excuses. Scout was drained, having worked all day with her father, this was supposed to be her break, her brief reprieve from the smothering presence of the Overseer, but it had just turned into another problem. Eventually, after calming down, Scout left the closet and began walking back to her apartment, dragging her feet and drooping her shoulders the whole way there. She was halfway home when she saw Butch locking up the salon and heading home. It was just a passing moment, but in it, Scout had realized just how much older Butch looked now, sliding the key to the salon into his leather jacket. He didn’t walk with the ridiculous boastful stride he used to when they were younger, he walked now with purpose. 

In this brief passing moment, Scout wondered what it would be like to date Butch, to date someone with whom she hadn’t been close friends with since childhood. Her father would be furious, no question, but she was sure he would prefer him over Lola. She would be doing her duty as a vault resident to date, marry, then have children with Butch. The vault’s population wasn’t sustainable for much longer, and everyone her age was being pushed indirectly to “do their part, for the good of the vault,” as her father would say. Not many boys paid any attention to Scout, Butch being the less than desirable exception, and she didn’t blame them, who would want to date the Overseer’s daughter? 

Lola would want to.

Lola was trying to. That’s where that short fantasy began and ended for Scout when it came to Butch. She turned away and continued home, pushing the thoughts out of her mind and here they were, resurfacing as they sat in silence. 

Scout cleared her throat, “So, Butch, can’t imagine you came all this way just to sit on this artificial grass and not insult me.”

He chuckled, “Hey, can’t I just want to spend some time with my favorite Overseer-to-be?”

Rolling her eyes, she responded, “Using flattery to get something you want, glad to see you remember that lesson.” Scout thought back to when she had to exasperatedly explain to Butch that she was far more likely to help him study for finals had he asked her politely rather than threatening to rip the book she was reading in half.

He smiled cheekily, waggling his eyebrows, “See? I ain’t hopeless, I listen to ya’ Teach.”

”Oh my God, Butch, what do you want?”

”Okay, okay, now listen, I know we’re on different teams, but you’re the best pitcher between the lot of us,”

Scout closed her eyes and smiled, “Wow Butch, you are capable of telling the truth, go on, go on,”

He waved her off, “Yeah, yeah. So, I was wonderin’ if you could, y’know, help me pitch better? I know you got no reason to, seeing as you’re on the other team and shit, but my team is really gettin’ on my ass about it,” He brushed his hand through his hair, and again Scout had to fight the urge to follow suit with her own hand, his hand now resting on the back of his neck as he pleaded his case. “Look, I’ll even throw in a free haircut or styling, or whatever you want.”

Scout sat up, gasping and pulled at her hair, which was in it’s usual braided state, “Butch DeLoria, are you implying I need my hair done? That is just so rude, and you want me to help you?”

His eyes widened and he turned towards her, hands waving in front of him, “No, come one Scout, you know I didn’t mean it like that. Your hair is-“ 

Scout cut him off with laughter, clutching her stomach, “Oh my god, Butch, I’m kidding. Of course I’ll help you, and to be honest, it’s for completely selfish reasons. It’s getting boring beating you guys every weekend.”

He glared at her, “Ha. Ha. Very funny,” but he couldn’t help but smirk. He wasn’t surprised at the playful mood he found Scout in, he had come to see that the only place she really let her guard down was on the field. Their unhealthy rivalry they had growing up had developed into more of a respectful one, having competed against each other on rival baseball teams for the past few years. Butch found himself more thankful of their non-hostile relationship the longer they would interact. It seemed like Scout was the only one who didn’t judge him based on his mother’s actions, and even then he never felt judged in her presence and he had a feeling it was due to the judgment she faced from her father. He didn’t think she would want to put someone else through that.

Scout began to stretch, motioning to her bag, “I have a couple gloves and balls in there if you can grab them.”

Butch got up eagerly and walked over to the bag full of equipment Scout had packed. Unzipping it, he rifled through it, grabbing a glove for Scout and searching for one big enough for him. Pulling balls and a couple bats out, Butch’s hand clasped a plastic bottle, bringing it out of the bag. As the pills rattled from within, so did Scout's resolve, her head whipping to the source of the sound. Her breath hitched and her eyes grew wide, mouth trying to form a sentences that could explain away the pill bottle that Butch was now examining.  He squinted his eyes as he read the fine print on the bottle, trying to figure out what the pills were. Scout had just made it to where Butch was standing when he finally read the name of the medication, "You on these pills too?"  
He asked quietly.

A soft tone was not one that Butch took to often, and Scout exhaled quickly, caught off guard. She had been prepared to meet, what she assumed would be cruel taunts, with an excuse about what the pills were and who they were for. She brushed the pieces of dark hair that had fallen over her face away, meeting Butch's question with one of her own, "Too?"

Butch sighed, squatting next to the bag, still holding the pill bottle. While he was looking at the bottle, he was really looking through it, shaking his head slightly, dropping the bottle back into the bag, replacing it with a mitt.  "Yeah, my ma' was on those for bit. Doc thought it would help, y'know, with the drinkin'."

Scout joined him in a crouch, eyes trailing over Butch's face, tracing his features into her memory. Where once there were cold eyes that reflected nothing but anger, were tired eyes, framed by dark circles that told the tale of many nights spent taking care of someone else. Lips that spat nothing but vitriol were replaced by ones that urged another to seek help. It was no secret that Butch's mother, Ellen, had a drinking problem. Everyone in the Vault knew, even the peers that Butch went to school with, giving them plenty of ammunition against him. Scout understood why he lashed out, it was a preemptive strike, and at the very least, it would be a mutual destruction. Over the years though, that misplaced anger turned to desperation as he tried to get his mother to cut back on the drinking, often having public arguments over the fact that, _"Just one more Butchie," really meant four, and if you don't like it, you can sleep in the Vault hallway for all I care._ Yes, Scout knew about all of this, most of it even more than her fellow vault dwellers as her father often ranted about Ellen Deloria and her burnout son.

Scout didn't know this, though, so she didn't know how to respond, but she realized that Butch didn't necessarily expect an answer, as he continued talking as if she had, "Yeah, they thought she drank 'cause of the VDS, but it turns out the VDS is 'cause of the drinkin'. How about that?" He stood up, Scout joining him, "So, 'course the pills did jack shit since she never stopped drinkin'." He stopped, his eyes switching from the mitt on his hand to Scout, "You don't drink though, so you sad or somethin'?"

Scout furrowed her brow, scratching her neck, "No, not really. I'm more angry now, sudden outbursts, prone to irritation, snapping, you know." The words flowed out of her easily after Butch's confession about his mother and his curious and non-judgmental approach to this subject.

Butch chuckled, white teeth contrasting against his tanned skin, "You, angry and outburstin'? Yeah, right." Scout's eyes narrowed at his dismissal of her explanation. He quickly put his hands out in front of him, "Alright, alright, I see your point." Dropping his hands into the pockets of hit sweatpants, Butch shrugged his shoulders, "But who doesn't get angry once in a while? 'Specially livin' in this hell hole. I think if that don't bother you, then you're the one who needs the meds."

Scout's features softened, as did her defensive posture, laughing lightly with Butch, "God, right?!" She exclaimed. "I can recognize that this Vault is the reason we're all alive, but I didn't choose to be born here, I should get a choice whether I die here, right?" She asked, looking to Butch for agreement. It came in the form of him tossing her a glove and a ball.

Scout walked away from Butch, tossing the ball into her glove before removing it to start the motion over. "I mean, I've seen the figures, we can't sustain an isolated population here for much longer. If we don't take preventative measures now, this Vault will be defunct in a few generations." Once she was a good enough distance away, she threw the ball to Butch, warming up her arm.

Once again, his silent agreement came in the form of the ball being thrown back to her. "I know my father has a high opinion of himself, but does he seriously think he can just turn his face away from facts and have reality do the same?" This question came as she wound up, delivering the ball to Butch with some added power. It hit his glove with a satisfying smack, being wordlessly tossed back to Scout. Taking a deep breath, she continued, "I mean, he is making me follow in his footsteps, does he think I will just blindly follow? He's always said that the Vault comes first, always pushing me to believe that, but he's wrong." Another hard throw, another toss back. "It's the people that matter, y'know?" Not giving Butch time to respond before continuing, "It's the people that matter. The Vault is meaningless, just a metal husk of a time he's desperately trying to preserve, but it would be nothing without people inside of it."

Another heater was thrown to Butch, this time he removed his hand from his glove, shaking it, "Jesus Scout, never mind, the meds make sense now."

Scout sighed, taking her glove off and throwing it to the side. Butch closed the distance between them, "I know it don't mean much, but I think you'll make a hell of a better Overseer than your dad. Plus, when you're in charge, ain't squat he can do to stop you, hell, you can do whatever you want now, you just don't realize it. I mean, you're his kid, he's only got one, what's he gonna do? Nothin' because anythin' satisfying for him would be damaging to his precious image."

Scout smiled at Butch's encouragement, "You're right, Butch."

"Hah, I've always been right. No one ever listens to me, but I know everyth-"

"He can't stop me," adrenaline flooded Scout's veins, "I want to do something and I'm going to do it!" Scout rushed to pack everything up in her bag, grabbing the glove from Butch and stowing it away. She began to walk quickly away before turning back wrapping her arms around Butch, who stiffened at their surprise contact.

"Woah there girlie, we can't do it on the field," he paused before arching an eyebrow, "That is, unless you want to."

Scout groaned, pulling away from Butch, smiling, "You're deplorable Mr. DeLoria, and besides I've already got a date tonight," and with a wink, Scout was rushing out of the recreation area.

"You're welcome," was the last thing she heard Butch shout before she was out of earshot. Scout's attitude had a habit of changing quickly these days, and for once she was grateful for it, wanting to act on this moment of clarity before it was too late.

Butch was speaking the truth, though he didn't realize just how correct he was. Scout was realizing just how much of an upper hand she had over her father. He couldn't do anything drastic to stop her as it would damage his reputation, the worst thing that could happen to him in his mind. With a newfound confidence and resolve, Scout marched her way back to their apartment, throwing her bag down as she got inside.

Upon entering, Scout was confronted by a guard and her father who waited until the sliding door to their residence closed before starting in on her, "Would you like to inform me on why Mr. Mack spotted you leaving Dr Westen's office?" The Overseer's tone was impatient as he gestured at the guard standing next to him.

Stevie Mack was a new hire to the guards that patrolled the Vault. Scout argued to her father, when he was going through applications, that he should turn down Stevie's as she new he had a big, nasty temper. Apparently, that is what the guards needed, someone to enforce and intimidate, some muscle. Scout didn't see muscle, she saw unpredictability and anger, as well as a loyal lapdog to protect her father should something go wrong, someone who didn't ask questions and just obeyed. 

Scout bent over, digging through her bag until she clasped the bottle of pills, shaking it as she pulled it out, "Oh, I was just getting my prescription to treat my VDS, the one that is about several years overdue according to Dr. Westen, though I'm sure you're well aware of that."

Her father looked stunned as he stared at the pill bottle in her grasp, "You- You don't have VDS." He swallowed, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose, "I don't know what lies Dr. Westen fed to you, but you don't have VDS Scout, you just have a severe problem listening to orders." He opened his eyes, staring wearily at Scout, "Just throw those away and we can forget this ever happened. We don't need the whole Vault thinking their future Overseer is mentally unwell, this family can't handle anymore embarrassment caused by you."

Scout fumed, gripping the pill bottle before throwing it in anger. It sailed past her father's shoulder, hitting the wall and falling to the ground, pills exploding out of it, landing across the living room of the apartment. Her father turned to her, mirroring her anger. Scout's hands trembled as she spoke, "I _**am**_ mentally unwell, and unlike you've been trying to get me to believe for years, it's not my fault. You think you're disappointed that you got a fucked up daughter instead of another version of yourself, someone to carve chunks and pieces off of until they resemble you in every way except looks? Imagine being me and thinking you got a father when all you got was a man who can't even cultivate a meaningful relationship with his daughter, let alone with the people in this Vault." Scout scoffed, continuing to unload, "Your whole life you dedicated to ensuring the success of this Vault, you sacrificed everything for it, and it's going to die. Sure, it will take a bit, but when there is no one left to repopulate the Vault, the only thing you will be remembered for was being a failure, for being the final nail in this metal coffin."

Scout waited for his rebuttal, but it didn't come. She watched the anger fade from his face and his stance, instead she was met with seeming acceptance. He simply nodded, like he had agreed with everything she had said, but after walking past him and declaring she wasn't staying long, she realized he wasn't accepting her words, but was accepting his new role. "Mack, lock her in her bedroom. Consider her under house arrest as she poses a danger to this Vault."

Scout's mouth hung open as Mack closed in on her, grabbing her arm and wrenching her towards her room, "A danger? Are you out of your mind? I'm not staying here, you can't make me." Scout fought against the tight grip Mack had on her arm. 

Her father turned towards her, eyes cold and indifferent, "You were correct about one thing Scout, I **_have_** spent my entire life ensuring the success of this Vault and I will not let it go to waste because you are incapable of seeing the bigger picture. I have given up everything for this Vault." his voice nearly broke as he finished speaking.

Scout stopped fighting against the guard's grasp long enough to ask, "Was it worth it?" She needed to hear it, once and for all, to hear her father admit that she was disposable to him as long as he succeeded in his goals.

He straightened his posture, though his glare had softened as he looked upon Scout. A few moments passed before he answered, "Yes." With that, he was walking to his office, leaving Scout to be pulled in the opposite direction, her shouts of protest and heartbreak falling on deaf ears.

Mack yanked Scout back towards her door, fighting with her every step of the way, "Stop struggling, you'll only make it worse on yourself."

Scout yelped in pain as one of her arms was pulled behind her, Mack restrained her until he was able to shove her into her room. She fell to the floor, scampering to her door. It closed as she reached it, her hand flying to the control panel, but it was already locked from the outside. She banged against the door until her fists were throbbing and screamed to be let out until her throat was raw.

Sliding down against the cold, metal door, Scout tried to hold her sobs in as she began to fully comprehend the ramifications of what had just transpired. She had truly lost whatever piece of her father was left and as she watched the hours on her clock tick by, she realized she was going to lose whatever piece of Lola she still had. Scout could feel the familiar fog cloud her mind, the fog that always proceeded a panic attack. She got to her feet, swaying as she struggled to breathe. Stumbling to her dresser as her vision tunneled, she rifled through her things until she felt a bobby pin. Pulling it out, her vision centered on the small metal hair accessory. Though, it was more than that to Scout. It was freedom. Many nights had been taken back as Scout picked various locks so she could go see Lola. Clasping her only chance at salvaging her and Lola's relationship, she glanced at the clock. It was already hours after Lola told Scout to meet her.

Scout moved to her door, inserting the bobby pin into a lock on the door as quietly as she could. Leaving the end of the bobby pin exposed, Scout moved to her bed, crouching down beside it. She lifted her mattress, grabbing the screwdriver she had placed under it many years ago. Positioning herself in front of the lock, she inserted the screwdriver and grasped the end of the bobby pin. Images of Lola leaving the diner, heartbroken, flooded Scout's mind as she worked on the lock. She couldn't imagine the pain Lola must have felt, thinking that she made a choice not to show up. Metal scraped against metal as Scout worked on the lock, but she was interrupted by muffled shouting.

She could hear her father, he was yelling something at Mack. The sound of footsteps leaving the apartment came quickly after. Scout didn't have time to ponder this for very long before her door slid open. Her well trained hands had kept working as Scout tried to decipher what her father was yelling about. She stood in the doorway, her father's office a few steps away. She could hear her father much clearer this time.

"He's escaped the Vault, damn it, the doctor! Lock everything down, no one can know about this, kill the radroaches and don't forget about the girl. I know she knows something about this, he's her father, he must have told her something."

Scout's heart sank as she heard her father's words. Confusion flooded her mind. How could someone leave the Vault? She knew of a tunnel in the Overseer's office that led to the Vault door, but she was sure that only her and her father knew about it. Scout's mind raced to connect the pieces, wanting to deny the conclusion she came to; Dr. Westen had somehow managed to leave the Vault and her father suspected that Lola knew about it. Surely if Lola knew, she would have told Scout, or maybe she had tried. Maybe she planned on telling Scout over dinner. Forcing herself to move, Scout quickly made her way to her father's room, going through his closet until she found what she was looking for. Pulling out a box, Scout opened it, grabbing the 10mm pistol her father had kept stored here. She pocketed some ammo and quietly made her way out of the apartment, not wanting to alert her father to her presence.

Scout had to get to Lola before her father's guards did. She had never heard her father so angry, and she knew he would let nothing stand in his way of protecting the residents of the Vault, and for the first time, she truly believed he would do anything and hurt anyone to ensure that.


End file.
